Darkest Before the Dawn
by A.Legend.Mr.Wayne
Summary: What was the purpose of fighting back when all that was worth saving had been lost? Perhaps it came natural, a reflex of intuition that filled your mind with a certain consciousness that only retaliation could aspire. An aspect which drove the most gentlest of human beings into justice driven crime-fighters;the darkest parts of their pasts which drove them towards the dawn. JB/OC
1. Once Again

AN/ Hey guys! So this is my first attempt at Fanfiction (fist pound into the air)! I've always hated long and exaggerated Author's Notes, so here it is, chapter one! Hope you guys enjoy! (P.s. If some parts don't make sense, have no fear, all will be explained in the long run!)

Disclaimer: Batman wouldn't be Batman without Bob Kane and Bill Finger and the character of John Blake wouldn't exist without Christopher Nolan :D That leaves my O/C and everything about her my own creation.

* * *

Darkest Before the Dawn

CH 1 ~ Once Again~

I have dreams.

Dreams where horrible events occur but there is nothing I can do about it.

I dream that I'm drowning, falling further and further into the deepest crevices of the ocean. I dream that I am tied down to something, something that I cannot see. It gets heavier with each passing second, the salted water burning through my throat and lungs as I gasp into the open water. I don't bother yelling, it's never proved useful before. Albeit there is a quiet serenity to the scenery; multiple hues of deep blue reflecting in the sun above me, one bright yellow light that keeps me from being entirely consumed by darkness. It's peaceful in a sort of way…until I hear the screaming. Ear-splitting shrieks of terror that resonate with perfect clarity throughout the entire ocean, sending complete numbness into my body. They're cries of pain, a young girl wailing in agony over something that is foreign to me. I try to move, to save this lost soul, but the pull downwards is too strong and I am left powerless.

It's then that I see her.

I close my eyes as images come crashing down in huge tidal waves, or perhaps more like daggers, each one digging deeper into my heart. Horrible, mangled pictures flash through my mind; death, greediness, devastation, agony and rage, yet there's one that triumphs for the position of most terrifying; the blood. Endless scenarios of congealed crimson paint plastered mercilessly on lifeless bodies. When I open my eyes again I can barely see anything. The water that once seemed so elegant and clear, like a diamond glass, was now murky with dark blotches of the cerise liquid. I panic, my arms now forced behind my back as I struggle, trying to free myself of my invisible captor. She reappears, only this time her angelic, white night gown is replaced with a bloodied and tattered one. Shredded holes in the fabric revealing multiple jagged scars that seemed long healed over. "Why weren't you there? Why weren't you there, Elizabeth?"

The girl cried, tears running down her colorless cheeks and welling in her translucent cerulean eyes. I want to comfort her, to tell her she is okay and protect her no matter the consequences. But my voice could not be heard, my shouting lost within the torrent of water spinning around me at a hurried pace. The girl begins to fade back into the darkness behind her, only a whisper of her soft voice remaining in the reverberating scenery, "Why did you let me die?"

I woke up with a start; jerking upright from my formal fetal position, I felt my heart racing through my chest and a cold, clammy sensation etching its way across my forehead. Taking deep, exaggerated breaths, I attempted to steady the erratic pulsing beneath my skin, my entire body on hyper-alert. It wasn't until I reached up to brush the hair back from my face that I noticed I was trembling; I pressed my eyes closed as I took my final breath, counting to five inside my head- regaining control. Images of the night surrounded me once again, foisting themselves in front of the darkness behind my eye-lids, there was no escape. I thought of different things about my immediate plans that would distract me from the horror I had been so graciously dealt with; going to work, then the grocery store,…I needed another box of paperclips…After opening my eyes again I noticed that the room had stopped spinning around me in a turmoil of constant motion, the same empty cream-colored walls greeting me once more. It was with a little effort that I was able to untangle myself from the disheveled mess of the bed sheets and make my way towards the bathroom. Cold tiles assaulted my bare feet as I stood in front of the mirror, splashing water just as freezing onto my face. Those dreams…nightmares…I wished that was all they truly were, just random imaginings that had formed unconsciously in the back of my mind; a terrifying horror movie, or perhaps a result of a constant submersion into violence that seemed to echo in every crevice of a God-forsaken city such as this. But they weren't just nightmares….

They were memories.

* * *

Looking straight at the mirror I found myself staring back into an empty soul. Iridescent blue orbs, once bright and cheerful with flecks of green surrounding the pupil had somehow transformed into a steely gray. Chocolate brown locks with a natural wave that sat on top of my chest in cascading layers had become a shield from the rest of the outside world. A five-foot-six frame with a slim figure now toned under strict self-discipline of training; though with slightly hunched shoulders as if to ward off numerous insecurities. Somewhere in there was a twenty-seven year old woman named Elizabeth Carter, with an optimistic outlook on life and a bright smile. Honestly, I barely recognized her.

I hurried down the wooden staircase as I zipped up my light-weight rain jacket and slung my work bag over my shoulder, padding down the steps as softly as I could. Trying to not make so much noise that the other tenants would wake up; albeit Gotham was not a city known for accommodating the light sleepers. The normal mid-morning sounds of the city greeted me when the door was finally slung open, small flakes of chipped, maroon-colored paint floating down from the chaffed edges of the door as it did so. As usual the air was frigid and crisp, keeping you on your toes as you traveled along one of Gotham's many avenues. It wasn't until I ventured out from the entrance way that I was able to encompass the full experience of Gotham's daily adventures; loud scuffles in the alleyways, the wailing of sirens off in the distance, honking and profanity rising from the escalating bumper-to-bumper traffic down the street- all a part of a much larger picture.

Recently the criminal activity rate in Gotham had been as astronomical as the rapidly declining economy. For the past few weeks mob-related murders, corrupted law practices, and drug trafficking had seen an astonishing escalation. From what I've gathered it hasn't been reduced to this state of chaos in years…four years to be exact. Four years since the masked terrorist made his final debut in Gotham City, effectively destroying the order of society and the morals of the people. Four years since Batman gave his life for the ungrateful citizens of this city, a parting gift to the people he unconditionally vowed to protect. With this memorable act the people had found something, something as dangerous as it was uplifting. Hope. And it was within that hope that the city had pulled itself up by its bootstraps and started working towards something together. I thought it a strange concept at first, a rather wishy-washy sentiment, which was precisely the reason I wasn't surprised when that hope had recently been shot out of the starts and was sent spiraling back down into reality.

Batman had fought with unyielding determination to save a city that had no future. A strange concept for someone who supposedly _avoided_ praise and glory for his triumphs; perhaps another vigilant acting martyr, simply out for the publicity. Although from the stories that had been plastered on every news stand in the country, I had gathered that the Batman was more than a man in a suit. He seemed to even rise above a mere symbol of hope; he was _good._ A man who took the fate of the entire city into his hands, never once pausing for praise and without a fleck of gratitude to his name. All of a sudden the circulating rumors accumulating from the television reporters did not seem justified. I saw a man, one who was just as broken as I was, with determination that showed such emotion which only one who had gone through hell and back could display. I had seen the reality of his choice, the consequences, and the endless search for justice in this seemingly unhinged world. That was the moment I had begun questioning myself…perhaps I had been wrong, perhaps there really was such a thing as selflessness in humanity.

Even more shamefully, I was a bit jealous.

Through everything I had encountered and everything that had been stolen out from under me, admittedly, I was angry. Angry at society, life and fate, people and their obliviousness, the dirt beneath my feet…I can even recall a time not so long ago when a much more livid version of myself yelled to the heavens in a drunk stupor of annoyance, eyes brimming with hot angry tears in the dead of night, screaming to the injustice of it all, to the pain… to the stars burning bright and safe in the misty sky, taunting me with their security. Even they had their place in the world. A perfect, functioning system of consistency and purpose- something I could never have…. I had held an all-consuming rage that led me with regrets, dark shadows that have been hunting me down for years. My anger had cost me dearly, trapping me, running me ragged. It was during this time that I had first heard of the mysterious Dark Knight. I had taken a cue from him, emulating a closer view of his fervent determination. If anyone, Batman would have been the one to understand my past, a simple phrase to sum it all; that it was always the darkest just before the dawn.

* * *

I kept my head down as I made my way across the block, facing the ground and maintaining my glance at my somewhat worse-for-wear converse. I hadn't noticed where I was headed until I bumped into a large figure, standing in the middle of the walkway yet seemingly preoccupied. Before he could turn around and make a scene I mumbled a hasty apology, quick reflexes were an acquired asset in a climate such as this. Lately tensions have been so high that even a simple misunderstanding could end up with a body lying lifeless and bloodied in an alleyway. I looked up when the man didn't turn around to utter a vulgar phrase in my general direction, and noticed for the first time how quiet the entire block was. Everyone was still, not even a breath could be seen being exhaled out into the frosty morning. A large group of people had gathered in front of an electric appliance store. Men and women stood silently in awe, forgetting for a moment their scheduled appointment or meeting. Their children clutched their hands and pant legs, completely unaware of the world around them and mulling on their bottom lips in boredom. Yet every single pair of eyes was glued to the multiple different-sized television screens.

As if I were a shadow melting into my surroundings, I slipped past the stunned bodies, making my way towards the front. I wasn't one to keep up on every grizzly detail of Gotham's latest murders and scandals, but my curiosity had gotten the better of me. When my eyes finally caught a sacred glimpse of one of the flat-screens in the middle, I froze, catching myself in a slight gasp. It was there that I saw it, the reason for the chock and awe that illuminated from the cores of every being that surrounded me.

"We are here today, live on GBC, at 54th Fox and Gardener," the breathy and slightly winded reporter started.

She was the normal news agent for the early mornings, her heavily made up brown eyes and bottle-blonde hair an attempt to compensate for the deeper than average voice. But it was the dark figure moving quickly in the distance behind her that got my attention. The blurry, black-clad shadow that made my eyes widen fractionally and eyebrows rise marginally.

"My name is Carrie Salvador-" the woman on the tiny screen continued proudly, feeling lucky enough to catch a story that would most likely result in all of Gotham's attentive gaze on her, "-And this is an enormous moment in Gotham City history. Today we witness a miracle. Today, we see the return of Batman."

* * *

At first I was skeptical; a simple copycat of the Batman- nothing more. I had seen the footage of the hovercraft going off into the distance and explode into a giant mushroom cloud. It was impossible; he _died_. _No one_ could have survived that, not even Batman.

And yet there he was, gliding across the building with only the ease that someone as skilled as him could have accomplished. The camera had gotten a closer shot of the mysterious vigilante's armor, and I acknowledged that it wasn't the attire of an average citizen. It was beautiful, a sleek, black metallic suit that covered his entire body with a protective fortress against the evils he faced. Although it looked as if Batman was carrying his own weight in armor, he still ran across the rooftops with skill, using his surroundings as instruments of escape. But there was something…off. He seemed slightly more acrobatic and fluid in his movements than before, a different technique…a completely new syncretic form and style- and that was my key in. He was not the same man from four years ago; perhaps a crazed fan that somehow got a hold of Batman's armor, masquerading as the Dark Knight in an attempt to assimilate his previous stature as Gotham's hero? Or was he something entirely other, hoping to rejuvenate the legend of his father? His trainer? A Friend? Was that someone even a man? Though the possibility that it was a woman seemed highly unlikely due to the fact that they would require the physique of Arnold Schwarzenegger to even raise a hand in that Kevlar.

A voice in the back of my head was nagging for attention, a constant murmur growing louder with each passing second, and as soon as I recognized it, I felt a miniscule tingle of adrenaline pulse through me. I hadn't realized that my feet had started moving without my permission, guiding me back down the street as I let my mind wander. Could this be a mistake? What if it was a corrupt and vicious, attempt on tipping the scale in favor of the recent statistically-astonishing death rate, using their skills against Gotham? I wasn't sure of the answer, worrying my lower lip as I thought over the possibilities. I allowed myself to remember for a moment of a time where a similar scenario had occurred and I had made the wrong choice.

It was within a fresh wave of determination that I quickly resolved my plans for this evening. It was by chance that I had previously deliberated on my options when I first arrived here, internally battling myself over this decision- a silent civil war raging in my head for weeks. But my resolve had strengthened as I considered the alternatives to not taking action, and my decision had finally been made.

It was time for me to put my skills to the test; to become something more than a name in the criminal database.

I had red in my ledger, and I needed it erased.

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Ooooo….so what do you guys think? I apologize for some of the rambling-ons but I really needed to give this story a little pretext, I promise you more action in chapter two, no worries J. I really hope you guys liked it! Please please please review! I would love to hear any questions/comments/ or constructive criticisms you may have about the story; I love new challenges!J. As for Elizabeth's character, since there's an entire finagled and strange backstory, it may seem confusing but I'm trying my best to explain how I see her, please hang on there! Thank you for reading! Next chapter is coming along fine so we'll see about that update ;).

P.S. As for the last sentence, I attributed it as a homage to that wonderful,charismatic movie- The Avengers :D.


	2. The Innocents

**A/N: Ahh! So. In case you might have missed it, this story is set four years post TDKR ****. And I would like to give a quick shout out to my wonderful best friend who encouraged and inspired me to write this, I could not have done it without her ****. Thank you to AbbieDabbie97, Marianne 16 and Linda Ku who followed/reviewed this story! It made me smile to know someone enjoyed it ****. Anyways; Allons-y! **

Chapter 2 -~ The Innocents -~

_Three weeks later_.

My biggest fear is something that cannot be seen, but felt, even in unconsciousness.

It towers over yet does not reach me, dancing along the peripheral of my senses, prickling at the edges of my fingertips; in the back of my mind, taunting, waiting for me to recognize its presence so it can consume me in an inhumane stance once again. If I let it in, it would destroy me without hesitation. A primal fear which encourages me to look behind, searching for a threat which I knew no longer existed yet still lingers as a shadow, dreary yet attentive, waiting for me to make a wrong move.

I suppose that's the reason I had been searching- trying to find something to fill that empty crater which had once housed my personal hell. Job after job, skipping around internships from one continent to the next, attempting to _feel_ _something_ again. I had struggled to convince my own consciousness that I was easily bored, my attention span shortening with each passing week- an adrenaline junkie trying to satisfy their next fix. After all, why couldn't it be that simple? Why did it there have to be a pretext or an ulterior motive to account for my actions, the ones which drove me towards the point of exhaustion that would have killed a normal person?

It was because even through my most obstinate nature, I knew the real reason.

The need to keep myself busy had grown with every passing second, finding myself reveling in even the most insignificant of emotions; anything to prove a shred of humanity still existed. An unequivocal desire to feel human again; the prospect that had eluded me for quite some time and the possibility of achieving it increasingly remote. The past had transformed me into a completely different being, I no longer felt what every twenty-something-or-other person did; joy, comfort, sadness, jealousy- foreign passengers in an abnormal mind. Perhaps it _was_ _them_, or something I adapted as a form of protection from the outside world. Either way I wasn't normal, and that made my task that much easier.

* * *

An exasperated huff was pulled abruptly from my lips as my back met with the concrete of the frigid ground. It was a hard blow to my upper cheek, one I had not been expecting, that being a first. I suppose it has been a while…maybe a little too long since I've been out of the 'game'.

Placing my palms against the ground above my head, I arched my back and flipped onto my feet in one swift move, careful to regain my footing in a stance that would not also leave me vulnerable to another attack. The hooded mugger prepared to lunge at me once more, eyes dilated and bloodshot, while frantically struggling to formulate the next plan of attack through the murky haze of cocaine attacking his brain cells. With an infuriated snarl he sprang into action, but this time, I could see it clearly. _He would attack me head-on; mercilessly thrusting a newly exposed switchblade he had taken the care to hide previously in his overcoat and lodging it into my lower abdomen._ The preview was short yet gave me what I needed, a focused and precise dictation into the immediate future; the flash lasted half of a second, allowing me plenty of time to react.

The thug came charging towards me then; breathing labored and rough, a bruise-battered nose glistening red from a heavy stream of blood flowing from his nostrils- a carefully placed hit from the heel of my hand. He stood at least a foot taller than my average stature, but while he had his lumbering strength, my agility came to play for what power I lacked. I side-stepped at the last moment, delivering a heavy kick to the back of his knees as he swiped into the empty midnight air. While the drug dealer was on his hands and knees I snatched a nearby plank of stray wood and landed a sensibly positioned strike to the back of his head, careful not to cause too severe of damage. As much as I would love to at times, it wasn't my place to claim a life, besides death was too good for these scums of the street; I wouldn't play judge, jury, and executioner. This man- if one could call him a human being- was only a common ignoble of Gotham, one of the same who plagued what the few remaining virtuous individuals have worked towards. However, there were far worse criminals who deserved far worse punishments; and I chose my battles carefully.

The lanky figure slumped against the hard pavement with a short groan, currently unresponsive. Tension that had recently occupied my body in nerve-wracking exhilaration now slowly disappeared from my extremities one section at a time, allowing my body and mind to relax. I had won. I wasn't ashamed to admit I was slightly frightened during these altercations with murderous criminals, but after all, it was a human emotion was it not?

I exhaled a breath I was unaware I had been holding, watching the tufts of the frozen mist pervading through the air and disappearing into threaded wisps as it traveled into the night. Simultaneously, I took off my make-shift Venetian half mask which I had picked up at a random store across town, running a hand over my eyes and wincing when the side of my face screamed in protest at the rough prodding. My right cheek burned around the small gash that had been cut open during the most recent encounter. No doubt my face would look like hell in the morning, bruises and cuts littered across my most exposed areas. I never bothered with vanity, however there was an importance lying in the secrecy of keeping my nightly activities to myself. Not wanting to waste another moment, I collected a zip-tie and replaced my mask inside the pink and black exercise bag. Inconspicuous accessories were favorable for my recent line of work, not many people would become suspicious that a woman in a work-out uniform and plugged into an iPod would be a masked crime fighter. This worked to my advantage. My mind flashed back into a time when I wasn't as careful or as nearly prepared, and I felt a cold chill run down my spine at the memory. I had left myself vulnerable, allowing for a chance to defeat, and it had cost me everything. This mentality that I now held, a strict and practiced reign of control over a situation had given me hope. Perhaps I could do more, not for myself, but for those who could not defend themselves. I felt responsible to help the innocents of Gotham. They were a city I barely understood, and in a seemingly hopeless state, yet the same ones I felt drawn to protect.

Admittedly, this was completely idiotic.

I couldn't clean up Gotham alone; a freak with a glitch in her brain who thinks they can make the world a safer place by taking down a few of the inconsequential bad guys. A gentle tug as light as the touch of an angel's wing, attempting to pull Gotham towards a better future. A second chance. _My_ second chance. And I wanted,_ needed_, to do something to alleviate the dire situation, no matter how little I would end up helping. Undoubtedly it was a bit of an adrenaline rush- the prospect of losing the battle and being stabbed to death a powerful incentive to keep going. Honestly I didn't care whether I lived or died… if it was for a worthy cause. But every thief, drug dealer, and rapist I put away was well worth the risk.

As for the new batman, he had proven to have honorable intentions…for the meantime. I still had no real evidence of who he was or what his agenda for the long-run might be, and I was slightly unnerved from not knowing. Yet, truly, the amount of time and energy he put into saving Gotham everyday was infinitely more than I could ever do. And in all conscience, I could use a small twinge of optimism. Could he be the next generation of Gotham's long lost hero? Could he do it alone? A notion had been ruminating in my mind for weeks now, a rather dangerous one. A plan which could quite possibly give me my answers…but that was for a later date. I looked down to the slumped figure only inches away from my feet, realizing I had work to finish and grimacing as a foul odor wafted in the air next to him- a long night awaiting me.

* * *

The patter of my shoes thudded against the sodden, wooden planks of the dock; I inhaled deeply through my nose, the swirling mist of cigarette smoke permeating through the salty breeze which rolled off of each passing wave down below. Watching my step near the edge of the pier, I reached in my shoulder bag to grab the only evidence that could link me to my planned attempt to circumvent the climbing criminal activity rate. I searched for the horizon, the fog lazily resting on the surface of the water, waves surprisingly calm. My mind drifted towards the thought of another; raw, painful memories seeping through my barrier- I felt my eyebrows furrow with a sudden tension and tears prickle around the edges of my eyes.

This was for her.

Without a second more of hesitation I threw the paper bag as far as I could into the everlasting murky depths; observing as it made a slight splatter of water jump into the air and settle down, creating smaller concentric circles into the dark liquid. The feeling of slight satisfaction and ensured closure trickled through me as my eyes witnessed the frigid waters hungrily consume it.

"Rough night, eh?" The raspy and sleep-deprived voice of an older man slurred from across the dock.

My head pivoted in order to see the source in person, not being entirely surprised at the sudden interaction for I had seen him earlier. He was propped up against the corrugated sheeting of the warehouse, leaning on a coiled pile of fisherman's rope; one arm was placed around a red buoy in support and the other hugging a beer bottle close to his chest, afraid that a passerby would snatch it from his fumbling grasp. I couldn't help but give a twitch of a smile as I turned back to look out into the tranquil sea.

"I guess you could say that".

* * *

"Dispatch nine- code 407- believed unconscious man near exit of 19th avenue and Harvard- proceed with caution".

This was the one I had been waiting for.

Flicking on the night vision to my lenses was done in a simple press of a button which was hidden in my forearm armor. Incidentally I had already been on ground level when I received the message from the scanner technology I had tapped into, making getting there that much easier. Walls were now see-through, outlined structures with bluish-white, whitewashed figures of the citizens of Gotham effortlessly visible. I wasn't the one who constantly immersed myself in the darkness, finding myself needing the aid available. He had been a marvelous teacher- a good man. Though not physically present, he helped me channel everything I had been keeping underneath for so many years, a release which made me better and far more useful. I had been astounded when I first realized he was leaving everything behind, his life's work which he entrusted to me. The dispirited police officer who gave up on the force that had no ethical or moral justice system. How he had seen me and decided I would be the perfect fit for being Gotham's next legend was beyond me- but I was too invested to give up, and too damned determined to not let him down.

Arriving at the described destination I kept to the shadows, stealth had been one of the first exercises in my training- a skill I found strangely absorbing. Easily locating the figure, I took in his current state- slumped up against the alley wall, breathing heavy as a confirmation of his unconsciousness. Approaching and crouching down next to him, my previous assumption that this had been the work of someone fairly new in the crime-fighting scene had proven accurate. A crumbled piece of paper with the man's mug shot and I.D. had been paper-clipped to the top of his unzipped jacket, near the neck; head resting on his chin in a flaccid position and hands secured behind the back with zip-ties. He made the third one this week, placed and labeled just the others- the common M.O. - a signature. The body was clean of all external fingerprints, not even outside blood spatters where detectable, whoever was acting vigilante had been careful, precise, using gloves to mask their identity …surprisingly skillful. I deliberated for a moment on the possibilities when the nearing sounds of sirens sent me back up on my feet; a confrontation between the stressed relationships with the police and myself a conflict best left alone.

I would need to pay more attention to this recent crime-fighter; Gotham has seen more than enough good people turn against their own city, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen again. Conceivably it was necessary to track this individual down, a friendly interview of sorts. After all, I had plenty of practice. Sinking behind the complacent shadows which had proven valuable assets, I disappeared into the night once again, undertaking my best efforts to protect Gotham. Not as an ex-police officer- but something much more viable. Someone who just by the mention of his name made the innocents of Gotham feel safe and protected, while making the most venomous of criminals quiver in fear….

During my endeavors I attempted to live up to the honorable role; and perhaps I wasn't the same hero Gotham deserved and merited, but nevertheless… I was Batman.


	3. Revealed

**A/N: Whoa, so sorry I didn't have this out sooner! It's been rather hectic and I've been re-writing and re-writing this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing this part though and I hope you all enjoy it! :D Thank you for the support and everything; **AbbieDabbie97, Linda Ku, highlander348, AkatsukiMercy1515, Marianne 16, Owl Nebula **and **Guest**! As per a few of your guys' questions, they are answered at the bottom of the page! Feedback is always appreciated. Oh! This story is set in 2016 for all intents and purposes. Allons-y!**

Chapter 3- Revealed

"Hmm..." a murmur passed under my breath in a low hum; eyes scouring the words before me on the illuminated screen.

I had taken up the initiative to undergo research on the original caped crusader, comparing various articles and sources I dredged up from Gotham's archives. The library had been surprisingly busy for a Tuesday morning- numerous bodies moving in and out of their respective positions from the chairs surrounding me- ghosts shifting in and out of existence in my peripheral vision. Only once there was an instance in which a rather flirtatious man would not give up on his antics, insistent on inviting me to some bar or another with seemingly low interest in something other than my body. Sadly I was forced to let him down with a cool retort rather than slamming his head through the nearby table.

Hours had passed yet I was not fazed on the drive towards my research, I wanted to know more, much more about the deceased crime fighter. The fruits of my labor had not shown much that wasn't about his vigilante conflicts and whether or not he has politically motivated- I snorted at that speculation, politics were _everywhere_, but most certainly not Batman's primary goal. With a frustrated sigh I gave up, placing my palm on the crook of my neck to ease the disturbed muscles which twitched from the strain- I contemplated my surroundings, listening to the familiar hum of the computer while trying to find answers when all I had were more questions. My eyes traveled to the book shelf which stood at my left, scanning the titles out of curiosity and aimlessly looking about as my mind tried to sort things out. One spine in particular caught my eye, thick gold-plated lettering which read, "The Scarlet Pimpernel by Emmuska Orczy" holding a beautiful thin trim of gold as a border. I knew the story well- A very rich man who turned out to be the country's greatest hero… Something in my brain clicked and I all but flew back to the keyboard, already launching the next key word phrase into the search box- 'Bruce Wayne'. Numerous articles categorized the billionaire play boy's flashy advertisements of pushy philanthropy and scandals involving the Russian ballet and some drunken night at a hotel with runway models. Sagacity was not a friend at the moment. I searched deeper into the database, focusing strictly on dates instead of the much bolder newspaper headlines.

This was it. This was _him_.

The dates lined up in perfect unison- never once was there a newspaper with stories on both Bruce Wayne _and_ Batman- the insane, fanatical moments of Bruce Wayne never crossed paths with the Dark Knight. The eight years of a missing caped crusader falling perfectly in-sync with the eight years of the suddenly hermitic playboy of Gotham. I was silently surprised- the situation seemed glaringly obvious and stirred in me little faith among the rest of the Gotham population. Or perhaps it was the inexplicability of it all…an enigmatic mystery that gave people their sense of security, an unknown force, strong and willing to save their city single-handedly….After all why question a gift from above?

That is until they practically crucified him.

Was this the fate of the next Batman? A sudden impulse told me that I needed to find him, talk to him- communicate somehow. And if Bruce Wayne truly passed down his title and legacy to him before he died, then maybe I could find something, anything, that would tell me where to look. A sudden urgency came upon me as I attempted to find even the smallest vestiges of the billionaire, tracking down his assets-a link to the here and now. Surprisingly it only took a few moments before something popped up- the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation for Children est. 2012.

"Gotcha".

* * *

The gravel creaked and rumbled under the weight of my foot landing next to the taxi. With a ten dollar bill handed to the driver and the attaché case now in my hand, I turned to find the daunting mansion of Wayne Manor standing tall and ominous out in the distance. It was then that my nervous ticks started kicking in; straightening the black collar of my blazer and adjusting the laminated I.D tag I had printed and arranged only this morning. Guilt slowly eased into my presence for the elaborate deception- a work of art lying in the midst of a compulsory masquerade. Brown waves pulled back tightly into a business-like bun, altering the natural lay of my hair into an uncomfortable and exposed position. The make-up I had applied felt foreign and unwanted against my skin, stopping myself numerous times from biting my lower lip when an unpleasant tang of lipstick met my taste buds. A recently purchased A-line black skirt felt absolutely suffocating, and I found myself willing to give anything in order to trade for a simple pair of jeans. Raven black pumps clicked obnoxiously against the limestone pathway to the mansion, and laughable enough they were easily tamable- the secret lying in a need for balance rather than practice. Great wooden double-doors became more easily visible as I neared the entrance from the half-mile driveway, and in my haste I ended up knocking with a bit more enthusiasm then was necessary.

The door was swung open in an eager frenzy a moment later, "Hello!" the voice of a young girl carried from the archway. Golden curls flounced around her small face in a way that reminded me of the happy juvenile freedom of summer. Her auburn orbs shown light with curiosity as they gazed up at me with an excited grin, one of her front teeth missing in a testament to her youth, "Who are you?"

Just then an older lady came up from behind the girl, addressing the small child as she came into view, "Annie. Now you know you're not supposed to be inside."

She began with the cadence of a mother yet the warmth of an old friend, glancing at me out of the corner of her eyes.

"Go out and play with the rest of the kids, hurry along now!" She laughed as the girl perked up and ran down the hall, tackling another child out in the courtyard.

"May I help you?" she queried, finally turning to me in a wary manor.

My gaze immediately shifted from the retreating form of the children in the yard towards her hazel eyes, the lines at the corners suggesting her age within a lifetime full of laughter. Starting with a responsive smile I found it abnormally hard to go into undercover mode, the innocence that surrounded me was fresh and different, something like family…something I had not experienced in years. A remembrance dragging you down. Frustrated with myself, the drive towards an ever-looming deadline of Gotham's fate pressed me further, leaping further into the deception.

"I'm with the HHA…the Happy Homes Agency?" I asked politely as if she really should have been expecting me. Her eyes scrutinized my nametag and formed a confused countenance as she glanced back at me.

"But the agency sent someone just last week!"

I revised my plans quickly- adjusting my faux, black rimmed glasses and careful to give an assuring smile- contributing to an expected professional calm to the situation.

"They were from the home office-I'm a part of the security branch, check on the safety of the buildings and equipment," I waved my hand in a rolling manor to illustrate the situation, a common mannerism for the safe-at-ease. If there was one thing people felt comfortable around, it was with someone who knew what they were saying. She seemed placated enough as I finished my explanation, her brow smoothing back from its recently arched position and an understanding mien seized her features.

"Oh I see, I apologize- what with the crime scares lately it's been getting harder and harder to tell…" voice worried and eyes taking on a slightly faraway look as if she were searching for something long forgotten.

It was people like these- the _good_ people that made me into what I had become. These were the kind of people that didn't deserve to be living the rest of their lives in terror- jumping from every shadow and double bolt-locking their doors. These were the people I attempt to shelter from the unbiased evils surrounding them. And _this_ was the reason I was here. Ramming the guilt of my deceit down to the pit of my stomach and the dark glowering of my anger aside- I was able to give a genuine, sympathetic nod in addition to my concerned expression.

"Well, enough time I've wasted from you, come in- I'll show you around".

* * *

"-and this is the game room- for the older kids of course, though all the children seem to enjoy it-" As my escort went on- Mrs. Richardson I had found out after my arrival- she described every inch of the manor in scrupulous detail, not leaving one pad lock or child-proof door knob unannounced.

I had done my part in the charade, nodding and asking questions when the appropriate time appeared, and jotting down meaningful notes on a legal pad which gave me a rough estimate of the lay-out of the mansion. The entire excursion was painfully tedious, seemingly getting nowhere with my hidden agenda. Hopes deflated, I had practically lost faith in there ever being _something_ of substance that was forgotten or ignored, somehow linking Bruce Wayne to Batman's nightly activities. I checked every corner and edge, trying to locate even the smallest of clues, my hopes climbing as high as finding a secret safe containing a map of a hidden room.

"Here is the southeast corridor. Now, by specific instruction in Mr. Wayne's will, God bless his soul, this section is to be excluded from any contact whatsoever. Even the maid isn't allowed in- something about it being dangerous-" when she caught a glimpse of my expression, Mrs. Richardson was quick to finish in her voice that reminded me of wind chimes-"Oh but we don't let the kids go anywhere near it! No one does. And it's safe and sound under tight lock and key".

She seemed rather proud of the fact that it was secured, though upon slight inspection it seemed rather decrepit, rusted and outdated. Perfect. Mrs. Richardson had ushered me down the stairs while I was contemplating a new plan….

"All the other doors leading that way are bordered off as well….Well that's that. If you'll come along with me, I-"

"Actually-" I interrupted with my hand held up so she could guess my pause, "I think I'm going to go on by myself, maybe look around the grounds…I'm sure you have much more important things to be doing rather than me wasting your time," my approach was polite and honest yet clear as a bell in a way that suggests I should be left to my own devices. Thankfully she didn't seem fazed in the slightest, leaving me with a handshake while I reassured her of my report so far. I had started down a different hall from across the room until I heard Mrs. Richardson disappear into the outside courtyard, then quickly turning around; I made my way up the stairs and to the door of the southeast corridor.

* * *

With a hurried step I glided inside and quickly but quietly shut the heavy oak door with my weight. The lock had really been too easy, not much of a challenge yet a bit more time consuming due to the rust inside the latch. Placing the attaché case next to the door and venturing out into the middle of the room, my eyes eagerly taking in the space. It was smaller than the others, not something I had been expecting. The original furniture still lied in their respective positions, with large sheets of white cloth spread over them; the room itself was not as extravagant as the others, except for the couch and what looked like a grand piano, the only other furnishings were two bookcases and a large grey fireplace. No eerie array of treacherous weapons hanging from the walls or an entire high-tech lab emerging from the floor. A slight disappointment. Of course the house itself-if one could simply call it a house- was made up of several beautiful masterpieces of architecture, intricate carvings along the bottom edge of the walls showing great craftsmanship in detail, almost telling a story in the way they twisted and curved. Everything previously in the rooms had been taken out and replaced with more kid-friendly items; suggestions of imaginative bookcases containing Shakespeare, Stevenson, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy and Hemingway. Striking, picturesque pieces of art from Van Gogh, Dali, Monet, Da Vinci- maybe even a few of the originals hanging up in proud frames of real gold and silver. In the foyer I had pictured specters from the past of wondrous parties floating around in glittering gowns and costly tuxes, twirling about in a sophisticated manor to the soft piano music and showing off to their social climbing friends. Ice cubes tinkling and twirling in their glass cages as they are swung around in a superfluous manor to the exaggerated hand motions of an animated socialite. It must have been breathtaking- it still was, like a long forgotten painting- the beauty and spirit slightly fading when the artist passes away, no longer there to give it denotation.

I had circled the room, inspecting the dust-ridden edges and cobwebbed corners. What was it about this room that the cryptic billionaire didn't want anyone to see? Traveling over to the covered piano and sitting on the black polished bench, I surveyed the scene once more, perhaps catching something from this angle. And it was out of the corner of my eye that I found that something; the legs of the piano had been bolted down- not entirely uncommon, but I was desperate. The piano was unsheathed in one swift movement, leaving the black gloss of the hardwood exposed, lid lifted and nothing but the normal wires and strings in taught position gazing back at me in a mocking undertone. Glancing at the keys once more, I caught an odd quandary, my eyes quickly catching the discrepancies. There they lay, the remarkable ivories which no doubt once played elegant compositions which echoed through the halls of the entire manor. Three of the keys which lay fairly close to each other had a noticeable amount of dust missing- not by much, but nonetheless it was there.

"What's the story with you three?" The low whisper of my voice hung in the room, vanishing into the walls. I found myself pressing the keys in order from left to right though they were unevenly spaced out. I held my breath, waiting for a reaction….Nothing. The strange tune hung in the air- stale and high-pitched. What was I doing here? Breaking into a restricted area of an _orphanage_ and pressing random keys to a grand piano belonging to a deceased billionaire. Classy.

I really wasn't normal.

But I knew I had to try, just once more, the hope still dangerously clinging to my side. The order was different this time- the one closest to me, the farthest away, then the one in between.

A creaking suddenly sounded about the fireplace and mantle, drawing back into the wall and sliding behind itself in an angry groan. Instead there lay a bar-caged elevator shaft, waiting to be used. I jumped at the chance. Warning lights practically exploded with the energy of trying to get my attention, but I pushed it back- I knew it was dangerous and I was ready for whatever waited for me at the bottom. A silent prayer left my thoughts that the shaft wouldn't fall and crash down several hundred feet to my doom as I climbed in and shut the door to the lift. My heart beat dramatically increased to the tempo similar to that of a drum major, tapping out the most pivotal moment of the song. I let down my hair, providing some measure of comfort to the frantic scenario; though to my surprise it was a rather smooth ride, lasting only a few minutes as I descended down. A mental note was taken each time the temperature dropped further and further, giving me some sort of idea exactly how far down we were. When the barred enclosure stopped abruptly I lurched forward, holding onto the crisscrossed netting in front of me and bruising the creases of my fingers in the process. An icy breath was drawn out into the open air, an eager heart beat almost audible in the sheer silence as I stepped out of the shaft and into the light.

Strident echoes from the pitter patter of my heels resounded into the large cave, taking a moment to slip them off and rest my panty-hoed feet on the damp floor. Looking up, the roof of the cave set me back, causing me to halt in my tracks in silent awe- jagged rocks and enclaves housing hundreds of sleeping bats. How fitting. The serenity of the moment took me by surprise, listening to the nearby waterfall rush down into the rocky depths of the lake. The bay held nothing safe for a series of overhanging lights, creating a rectangular-shaped dome, expended from the roof of the cave. I crept up closer to the edge, looking out and down into the rushing liquid below. Outsized and obscure rectangular shapes lurked beneath the clear water- a curiosity raged within me. Without warning my eyes lurched forward into the few seconds of the immediate future- a shadowy figure coming from behind me- I would meet him, and now was the time.

"You're not supposed to be in here," a husky and abrasive voice came from behind me, composed yet warning. In response I straightened up and turning around with a calm collectiveness, pushing my momentary fear to the bottom of my toes and fighting back the instinct to fight or run. There stood a man, at least five foot ten with a medium build; arms crossed and muscles straining against his white cotton tee as balled fists tensed into his forearms, his eyes hard- analyzing the potential threat before him. I was attempting to understand just how determined I truly was and by what means this charade would pan out; meanwhile contemplating my plan of democracy. Deciding on the tactic of discretion towards the situation rather than plain abstinence, it was with barely any grace that I was able to give some sort of retort with even a sliver of confidence that reflected his.

"And you're supposed to be dead".

**A/N: Thank you to all my lovely readers out there! Quick little side note here; the thing here with John Blake and Elizabeth is more of a sub-plot, even though Batman is still a main character and I love him to death. However if any of you were hoping that it would turn into a mushy/ gushy fluff piece of typical romantic fanfics where the OCs turn into helpless Mary Sue-s who get injured every two and a half chapters and need rescuing and have dramatic moments when they finally connect and blah blah blah- then I apologize if that's what you had your heart set on, but that's just not my style :D. Please Review! You guys are the best. Mwah.**

**Acknowledgements; First off- The Scarlet Pimpernel- fantastic book, read it five times and I was blown away when I found out that it was actually the inspiration for Batman ( and Zorro)! Hence the connecting ideas- AND I thought it deserved some recognition- try it out maybe? **

AbbieDabbie97- Thank you! I hope you enjoy what I have in store, can't wait!

Linda Ku- Thank you so much, your encouragement and compliments really put a smile on my face, and yes, that was a line from the Avengers! I loved that part in the movie and wanted to give a little homage moment. Thanks again!

highlander348- I'm truly sorry if it was a bit confusing, at times my thoughts have trouble translating onto paper (or rather, a computer screen), from now on things should start making more sense as we delve deeper into the plot! And yes, she does have mental powers! As to her other perspective abilities, those shall have to be uncovered as we go, don't want to risk giving spoilers ;). Can't wait to see what you think of the next chapter . Thank You!

Guest- I'm excited to see how this is going as well! This idea actually took me quite a while to think through. Thank you!


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